If we could live on top of the petals,
Jump from snowy spot to downy bed,
If our childish imagination could lead,
instead of steady in our head-
Like Robert Louis Stevenson in the
Land of Counterpane,
like every fantasy story and the
dreams that lie within-
There’s no need for evolution
and the sorrow of a God-less tale,
Empty your mind of the serious loss
of the seconds in life’s timetable.
There’s no place for misery in the
beauty of God’s Spring-
Catch a lilt of his sweetness when
the cheerful birds go whispering.
Rosy backgrounds, fairy tales-
They all point to hope-
Heaven and happy endings…
I’m going to keep writing this stuff, people!
(Ha ha, you thought I should rhyme…)